


cover me, keep me warm (i’m burning in the cold)

by GoddessOfTheVoid



Series: short multifandom ficlets [5]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Huddling For Warmth, Hypothermia, Jaskier | Dandelion is a Mess, M/M, Naked Cuddling, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28471266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessOfTheVoid/pseuds/GoddessOfTheVoid
Summary: Jaskier had expected nothing but certain death once he got caught unprotected in a snowstorm. What he did not expect was to get rescued by the handsome Witcher he'd seen in other villages before.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: short multifandom ficlets [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629358
Comments: 8
Kudos: 220
Collections: The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge Winter 2020





	cover me, keep me warm (i’m burning in the cold)

**Author's Note:**

> happy 2021 everyone <3  
> this is my entry for the Witcher flash fic challenge. this work is not beta-ed and English is not my first language so please be kind.

Perhaps, Jaskier thought as he was trying to wade through the deep snow, leaving his home in an attempt to become a bard wasn’t the best of choices he’d made in his life.

He could have been safe and sound in their manor, watching the snow cover the ground from the comfortable seat by his windows, a fire burning behind him and keeping him warm.

All the comfort he could have wished for. No hunger, no cold. And he had left it behind.

No, Jaskier hadn’t desired to stay in the place he’d called home for nearly two decades. 

He had just as little desire to inherit his title and all the obligations that came with it. Shuddering at the thought of being forced to partake in boring conversations about money and war.

He was a poet, not a leader. And an impulsive mess.

A combination that got him into trouble more than once.

In fact, his current misfortune was absolutely caused by the very impulsive choice of leaving his home in haste and with nothing but the silk clothes he had been wearing and his lute.

Then again, how was a man supposed to react to the announcement of an upcoming marriage? _His_ own marriage. Which was very much unwanted.

Not that anyone had cared to ask him beforehand. Not that anyone had cared to inform him what would happen, probably because they knew he would have protested loudly.

What did they even expect of him by placing a woman in front of him and telling the entire banquet that he would marry her? He did not even know her. Nor had he much of a desire to do so.

Neither had he the desire to share a bed with any other woman for more than a night. In fact, he much preferred the strength of a man instead most of the time. Not that mattered much or was of any relevance.Of course, he would not be allowed to marry a man. Then again, he did not want that either. Marriage was not something he had considered an option for himself.

Not yet at least. Not, when there was so much he wanted to accomplish before.

He had been left with no other choice but to leave and get as far away as possible.

If he wanted a chance at a different life — the one he’d dreamed about ever since he was a young boy — this was his only option. He had to take it or be trapped behind castle walls for the rest of his life.

He was lucky it had been a warm summer night when he had grabbed his lute and some of his most precious belongings and left his home in secret. There had been no time to pack, leaving him with nothing but the clothes he was wearing.

In retrospect, this had been truly a bad choice.

Not that this revelation helped him much in dealing with his current situation.

Because he was still wading through ankle-deep snow, wearing nothing but the same clothes he was wearing that summer night. And the worn silk wasn’t doing much in keeping him warm.

Perhaps he should have bought that warm cloak in the last town he passed.

Perhaps he should have booked a room to stay instead.

Perhaps he made the biggest mistake of his life.

But he was short on money and naive enough to assume he would make it to the next town until the weather was still tolerable.

_Stop assuming, see what good it did you?_

It was time to realize the hard truth. He was not made for the road. He was nothing but a weak noble boy not suited for the hard life outside the castle walls.

Just because a life like this had been his dream it didn’t mean that he was capable of actually living it.

Such a shame he only came to this realization when it was already too late.

The only satisfaction he found in his situation was the fact that at least none of his family would ever be able to say _I told you so_ into his face.

Most likely because he would die in those woods. What a shame. Then again it was a preferable fate than having to face his parents and their judgment.

He did not want to acknowledge his failure as a bard.

Not yet.

Not after only a few short months.

It hurt too much to think about the fact that no one enjoyed his compositions, that he barely earned any coin.

It was a wonder he survived for as long as he did.

Moving from town to town he tried his best to perform, to entertain, before he had to leave for a new place.

All why trying to avoid the dangers lurking in the woods.

He had seen some Witchers on the road. Different ones. In some of the villages he’d stopped by. 

They were fascinating.

Others recoiled in fear from them, called them names and wished them gone even though they were the ones who saved them from their problems. If it weren’t for those Witchers the roads would hide more dangers.

How many people stayed alive — him included — thanks to their service? And that’s how they repaid them, by refusing them food or shelter.

He, instead, thought they were utterly fascinating.

What would he have given to be able to sit at their table and hear their tales. All the stories and ballads he could have told.

Especially one of them intrigued him.

The white-haired one, with a scared face and a perpetual frown.

Not that he had seen much of him, he always kept his face hidden beneath a cloak, barely talking at all the few times he had seen him.

But once he did talk and Jaskier could feel himself almost swoon.

Such a deep voice, such a handsome man.

Sometimes he found himself dreaming, fantasizing how it would feel to be on the road with him together.

A dashing hero he would not only sing songs about, but who would be perhaps more than a travel companion?

_You are a hopeless romantic, Jask,_ he scolded himself. _And soon a dead one, too, if you don’t find shelter._

It would do him no good to dream about an attractive Witcher when he was so close to freezing to death. What he needed to do is to find a solution for his dilemma before it took his life. After all, a dead bard was even less useful for a Witcher than one who was living.

He tried to look for some shelter, a cave maybe. Or an abandoned shack if he was lucky. Anything that would protect him from the white storm around him.

There was nothing. Nothing but trees and icy white flakes around him, taking his sight as he fought to stay on the path.

Still, he kept on walking. If he stopped he would die, that much even he knew.

No matter what happened, he had to keep moving. Forward. Step by step.

He could not feel his fingers anymore, neither did he feel his legs as they were stumbling along the road.

_Why didn’t you stay in the inn? Why didn’t you charm a man to let you stay the night? You’re an idiot, Jask._

A soon to be dead idiot.

Still, he kept on walking.

He did not want to die. He wanted to live. Thus he had to keep moving.

In the distance he saw a figure, blurry and clouded by the snow in his eyes.

Someone was there. Someone who could help him perhaps.

He tried to call out, but no noise left his lips. They were frozen, unable to move.

Still, he kept on walking.

Towards the figure, until he could see it better. Whoever it was, was wearing a black cloak obscuring any distinguishable features. 

He could not see a face. Perhaps it had no face. Just a blurry glint of pale skin and black eyes.

He stumbled, face down into the snow as his numb hands didn’t have enough strength to catch him.

It had to be death, coming to claim him, he thought.

Considering his options to die was as dramatic as it would get it seemed. Such a shame there was no one near to witness it.

Funny though, that death seemed to have a handsome face with scars and catlike eyes. Not what he had expected.

And not that he had the strength to think much about it, either, as numbness overtook his body and his eyes closed.

The last thing he saw was concern on that very familiar frowny face and oh what a shame that he would never figure out who exactly that handsome man was.

His awakening was much slower.

Truth be told he had not expected to wake up at all.

Not that being alive was an unwelcoming surprise. Far from it, in fact.

Yet he was aware, that he should have died once his body gave up and he collapsed into the snow. As welcome as this surprise was, he was just as much confused by it.

Bleary-eyed he took in his surroundings, finding yet another surprise as he realized he was inside a building.

That could not be right.

Had he not collapsed right in the middle of the snowy road?

He did not remember ever making it to a village, let alone to what seemed like an abandoned cottage.

And yet there was a fire burning right in front of him, warming him as he laid on top of warm furs, covered by a soft blanket. And a massive source of warmth plastered against his back.

Something that felt suspiciously like human skin. 

Had he stayed in town and shared the bed with someone?

Perhaps his icy adventure was nothing but a dream?

No.

It felt too real to be a dream.

And he still felt cold. Despite the heat of the fire and the man behind him.

That man must have found him. Frozen and near-death and had decided to save him instead of leaving him to his fate.

Weakly he tried to turn into his embrace, wishing to see this stranger and thank him for his kindness.

Only it was no stranger. Not exactly.

It was the Witcher.

The one he’d admired from afar, the handsome one with the white hair.

And oh, up close he was even more gorgeous.

But why would a Witcher even save someone like him? Perhaps he did die. Perhaps this was his heaven, being warm and held.

“Are you death?” He whispered.

Yellow eyes opened and an amused smile showed up on his face. “No, I’m Geralt.”

“So I didn’t die?”

“Of course you didn’t.”

“Are you sure?” He had to ask again, even if it made no sense.

“Certainly. You were a bit frozen but still very much alive when I found you. But now that you are awake again, who are you and what were you doing out there all alone?”

“I’m Jaskier, nothing but a humble bard. And I was failing to get to the nearest town. I thought that much was obvious.”

“Wearing nothing but silk? In winter? Are you trying to kill yourself?” Geralt exclaimed and he flinched back slightly.

“No I’m not. It’s just— well I wanted to buy myself something warmer, with the money I would hopefully earn in the next town. It’s not like I planned on walking right into a snowstorm,” even as he was trying to explain it he felt ridiculous and naive.

“I see that. Someone like you rather belongs behind castle walls and not on the road.”

“I know. You don’t have to rub it in so harshly, though.”

He already felt pathetic enough, Geralt’s judgment was not helping much either.

“Why are you out there then if you know that?”

“I want to become a bard, to see the world and not be locked behind those castle walls I apparently belong. I’d rather die than to return to this prison.”

“Was your life so bad?”  


“Not exactly bad, but not what I wanted. Is it even a proper life if you have no freedom in your choices?“

“You’re foolish. This could get you killed.”

“I know,” he sighed, turning towards the fire again as he tried to get closer to its warmth. There was not much he could say or do to defend himself. After all, Geralt was right.

He shivered weakly as he tried to get closer to the warmth until Geralt decided to plaster himself to his back again with a sigh. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, confused by the gesture.

“Keeping you warm. It wouldn’t do you any good to catch a sickness now.”

Relaxing into Geralt’s embrace he whispered a soft “thank you.”

“What for?”

“For not letting me die, I guess. For keeping me warm. Pick whatever you like.”

“Anyone would have done that,” Geralt said.

“No, anyone would have left me to die and just continued on their path to safety,” he sighed, “I might be an idiot sometimes but I’m not that naive.”

“I can take you to the next town if you want. You can borrow some of my clothes until you can get new ones.”

“I could sing your tales, you know? Give you some publicity. Perhaps it would help both of us with the coin and hospitality issues.”

“Why would you want to travel with me? You know what I am,” Geralt sounded utterly confused, as if he couldn’t believe that someone would want to travel with him.

“Exactly. I know that you save those idiots of villagers from their plages and they curse you instead of singing your praise. And I intend to fix that. If you’ll let me.” 

“What do you gain from this?”

“A companion,” he started, because that was the most important thing. He did not want to be alone, not anymore, before he voiced the obvious benefits he would gain, “and inspiring stories and protection.”

“Let’s get to the next town first, and then we’ll see.”

It was not exactly a yes. But it was not a no either. And Jaskier would take it. For now. After all, he had the entire trip to convince Geralt of his skills.

“You should rest some more, we’ll need to sit out this storm anyway.”

It was easy to fall back asleep, basking in the comfort of being held. Later he allowed Geralt to feed him some dried meat and fruits and with the fire restored he easily slept through the night.

The next time he woke up he felt well-rested and warm, still comfortable in Geralt’s arms. It felt good and he had no desire to get up. He didn’t want to leave this nest they made themselves.

This was all he wanted. A companion on the road, being held at night when he slept. Oh, he hoped Geralt would agree to keep him. 

“Can we stay a bit longer?” He asked once he felt Geralt move.

“It seems to be still snowing so I guess you’re lucky.”

He was lucky indeed. So very lucky to have been found and saved by the exact person he had wished for deep inside.

Impulsively he leaned up, pressing a soft kiss against the corner of Geralt’s lips.

“Jaskier, you don’t have to do this.”

“Oh I’m not doing this because I feel like I have to,” he whispered, “in fact I very much want it.”

“You have no idea what you are asking for.”

“I most certainly do. I want to get to know you Geralt. If you let me.”

He looked at Geralt with determination in his eyes, trying to make it clear that he would not let this chance slip from his fingers. 

With a groan Geralt gave in, rolling them over until he had Jaskier pinned beneath him.

It was exactly what he had wanted, what he had craved deep inside.

Geralt's eyes glistened playfully before he claimed his mouth in a bruising kiss and there was nothing but desire, burning hot inside of him, warming him against the cold outside.


End file.
